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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24987595">Suddenly: Russian</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScottieIsImpatient/pseuds/ScottieIsImpatient'>ScottieIsImpatient</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>accent fuckery [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Trek: Enterprise</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Accents, Fluff and Humor, Humor, Languages, Why does this have a plot, crackfic, some weird shit happens with accents</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 02:42:08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,552</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24987595</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScottieIsImpatient/pseuds/ScottieIsImpatient</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The Enterprise hits a series of spacial disturbances. Suddenly, Malcolm is Russian.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jonathan Archer &amp; Charles "Trip" Tucker III, Jonathan Archer &amp; Malcolm Reed, Malcolm Reed &amp; Charles "Trip" Tucker III</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>accent fuckery [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1808776</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>24</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Suddenly: Russian</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I got this after watching Dominic Keating play a Russian mobster in G vs. E. Made me wonder just how cursed Russian Malcolm would be.</p><p>Be thankful I didn't give him a mustache. He had a mustache in G vs. E.</p><p>I really don't know why this turned into a full-blown plot. Also warning for POV changes. Oh, and accents are written as phonetically as I could get them. Just so y'all know.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Jonathan Archer, 12:45pm Tuesday</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>The bridge shook violently, but Archer was prepared this time. His nails dug into the worn fabric of the captain’s chair; his feet firmly planted on the ground. In front of him, Travis’ knuckles were beginning to turn white from clutching the helm controls.</p><p>“Status?” Archer barked in T’Pol’s direction. The Vulcan science officer remained as calm as ever as she gave her answer.</p><p>“The disturbances are becoming stronger and closer together. I advise that we turn around and head back the way we came.”</p><p>“That’ll take too long!” Malcolm called from the other side of the bridge. The ship shook again and he almost faceplanted into the tactical controls, just barely managing to catch himself. “All due respect, captain, but we’ve taken a lot of damage already.”</p><p>“I agree,” said Archer grimly. “We’re just going to have to wait this out. How many-”</p><p>Another disturbance.</p><p>“Urgh. How many more, T’Pol?”</p><p>“I’m registering at least five more, captain.” T’Pol didn’t even look up from her station. “They are coming towards us at rapid pace. I suggest-”</p><p>The bridge bucked again.</p><p>“I suggest we reroute all available power to hull plating.”</p><p>Malcolm looked to Archer. Archer nodded, so Malcolm began inputting the codes, just as another disturbance hit them. This time, the tactical officer didn’t have time to brace himself. With a sickening thunk, Malcolm’s head collided with the station and he collapsed to the floor.</p><p>“Malcolm!” Archer called. He tried to stand but only ended up falling back into his chair as the bridge shook.</p><p>“Two more,” T’Pol said over the crackling systems and fizzing wires. Travis’ eyes were glued to the screen, a subtle shake in his shoulders.</p><p>Archer was sure he would get thrown clear of the captain’s chair if the disturbances got any stronger. Fortunately, they stopped just in time, and the ship stilled.</p><p>“Malcolm,” Archer breathed, stumbling towards the officer’s limp form. Malcolm’s eyes were closed, and a nasty looking bruise had begun to form on the right side of his head, but there was no bleeding as far as Archer could tell.</p><p>“T’Pol to sickbay,” he heard T’Pol say above him. He gave a silent thanks to his science officer and resumed checking Malcolm for any further injuries. One of his fingers was bent at an odd angle, but other than that, he seemed fine. Nothing more than a concussion, most likely. Or even just a killer headache.</p><p>Archer <em>hoped </em>it would be a concussion at worse, anyway. Human brains were “tricky things”, as Phlox put it. The most minor of injuries could prove to hold drastic consequences.</p><p>No. He wasn’t going to think of that right now.</p><p>Archer stood back and let Phlox and his medical team carter Malcolm to sickbay. Then, he went to check on the damage the ship had sustained during the disturbance waves.</p><p> </p><p>When Phlox paged him a half hour later, his tone did not signal good news. Fortunately, the doctor assured him it wasn’t the worst, but wanted Archer down to sickbay as soon as possible. “And bring Hoshi with you,” he added. This struck Archer as odd. He knew Hoshi and Malcolm were friends, but so were half the senior staff. Why Hoshi in particular?</p><p>When the two of them stepped into sickbay, he immediately knew why.</p><p>“Что происходит?” said Malcolm, his tone laced with confusion and desperation. His eyes followed the doctor as he moved around the biobed, running a scanner up and down the Lieutenant’s body.</p><p>Archer closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and opened them. Beside him, Hoshi gave a giggle.</p><p>“Что происходит?” Malcolm asked again, his gaze trained on the two of them this time. More specifically, on Hoshi.</p><p>“Malcolm?” the linguist asked, seemingly just as unsure as Archer felt. Malcolm nodded a bit too enthusiastically.</p><p>“Ты меня понимаешь?” Hoshi continued. This elicited another frantic nod from Malcolm.</p><p>Archer rubbed a hand against his forehead and took a step towards Phlox. “Doctor, just what the hell is going on?”</p><p>“I wish I knew, Captain,” Phlox replied grimly. He stood back and watched as Hoshi and Malcolm exchanged words in whatever language they were speaking. “I’m afraid I don’t have an explanation. The moment he woke up, he asked me the very think you’ve heard him ask twice now. It’s not English, I know that.”</p><p>“It’s Russian, sir,” Hoshi piped up helpfully. “He’s speaking Russian. I’m not one hundred percent fluent, but I know quite a bit.”</p><p>“What’s he saying, Hoshi?”</p><p>“Well, before, he was asking what was happening,” she explained. “He seems to be able to understand both English and Russian, but he can only speak in the latter.”</p><p>“Not exectlee.”</p><p>Simultaneously, the three of them turned to where Malcolm sat on the biobed, a smug smile creeping across his face. “Not exectlee,” he repeated. Instead of the usual crispness that was his British accent, Malcolm’s voice had stress on all the wrong syllables, and his pronunciation was muted. He then turned to Hoshi and said something in rapid Russian.</p><p>“He says that English is a lot harder,” she translated. “It’s like all his… knowledge, is that it? All his knowledge is gone.”</p><p>“Gone,” Malcolm echoed with a dramatic hand gesture. “Sorry, keptin.”</p><p>“No need to apologize, Malcolm.” Archer set a hand on Malcolm’s shoulder and gave him a reassuring smile. “I highly doubt you’re doing this to mess with us.”</p><p>“Никогда.”</p><p>Archer glanced to Hoshi.</p><p>“Never,” she repeated back in English.</p><p>Captain Archer gave her a thankful nod before turning back to Doctor Phlox. “Looks like you’ve got a challenge, huh, doc?”</p><p>“I relish challenges,” the Denobulan said brightly. “It will, however, be an odd one. I have no experience with Earth languages other than English, obviously, and… oh, what was the other one? It began with an f…”</p><p>“French?” Hoshi offered. Phlox grinned.</p><p>“That’s it! Yes, but I still have quite a way to go on this ‘French’ language. What did you say the one Lieutenant Reed is speaking is?”</p><p>“Russian.”</p><p>“Russian. Very good.”</p><p>“Not good,” Malcolm interrupted. He frowned and shook his head. “Not good.”</p><p>“We didn’t mean it like that, Malcolm.”</p><p>“Sir, I kent…” the tactical officer trailed off, searching for the word. Eventually, he gave up and said it in Russian instead, relying on Hoshi as the translator.</p><p>“He says he can’t work, sir.”</p><p><em>Oh, so that’s it. </em>Archer felt bad for letting a smile slip. “I’m sure Phlox will find some way to cure you. We’ve run into much weirder situations out here, after all.”</p><p>Malcolm tilted his head in agreement.</p><p>“Besides. If we have to, we’ll just teach you English again. I’m sure Hoshi would be thrilled to be your teacher.”</p><p>Malcolm looked equally horrified and embarrassed at this idea. Archer’s smile wavers. “Relax, Malcolm. I’m kidding.”</p><p>“If you’ll please, Captain,” says Phlox, shifting to stand in front of him, “I will need time to fully examine Lieutenant Reed and find the cause of this. It is not unheard of for humans with head injuries to wake up speaking a different language, as I’ve so read. However, it is in no way common, and I must look at all possibilities.”</p><p>“Of course, Phlox. We’ll be on our way.”</p><p>“Oh, actually, could you spare Hoshi for a few hours?”</p><p>Both Archer and Hoshi turned around with identical expressions of surprise on their faces.</p><p>“I will be needing a translator,” Phlox explained. Archer looked between the doctor and the linguist, unsure of how to respond. He needed Hoshi on the bridge in case they ran into anyone.</p><p>As if she could read his thoughts, Hoshi said, “I’ll be sure to report back at the first sign of trouble.”</p><p>Finally, Archer agreed. As he made his way out of sickbay, he heard rapid Russian being exchanged between the two of them. <em>How on earth are we going to deal with this? </em>he wondered.</p><p> </p><p>“Excuse me, sir,” Trip interrupted, “Malcolm’s <em>what?</em>”</p><p>Archer sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. He expected this reaction, of course- as far as they knew, no one can just <em>become </em>Russian out of no where. However, Archer’s had to deal with two identical reactions from Travis and Ensign Meng. T’Pol, her usual calm self, didn’t so much lift an eyebrow at the news. “Facinating,” was all she’d said.</p><p>Archer opened his eyes to stare at his engineer in front of him. “Malcolm’s speaking in Russian. Phlox doesn’t know what caused it. <em>I </em>don’t know what caused it. Malcolm himself barely knows what’s going on.”</p><p>“Is he okay, though?” Trip’s voice dripped with genuine concern. “You said he knocked himself out.”</p><p>“As far as we can tell, Malcolm is fine. Physically speaking.” He added the last part under his breath. Indeed, Malcolm looked as healthy as ever, but it was obvious his emotional state had startled at the sudden revelation that English was no longer his first language. “I get the impression he’s itching to return to his station. Thing is, he’s not going to be able to do much if he can’t communicate with us properly.”</p><p>“We have Hoshi,” Trip offered. Archer shook his head.</p><p>“I can’t rely on Hoshi every time Malcolm needs to voice an opinion. Besides, this isn’t going to be permanent. We’re getting his old self back.”</p><p>“Aw, British snarkiness an’ all?” Trip’s attempt at humour did little to lighten the mood.</p><p>“Our first logical step would be to examine the sensor scans of the disturbances.” Archer heaved himself to his feet with a small sigh, and Trip grinned.</p><p>“Yer beginnin’ to sound like a certain Vulcan we know.”</p><p>Archer laughed. “Guess she’s rubbed off on me. We could use you on the bridge, Trip.”</p><p>“Actually, sir,” said the engineer, “permission to go t’ sickbay? I wanna see how he’s doin’.”</p><p>Seeing the slight desperation in Trip’s eyes, Archer nodded. “Take ten minutes. Then I want you on the bridge.”</p><p>“Aye, sir.”</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Trip Tucker, 2:10pm Tuesday</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>With a zillion jokes jumping around his head, Trip walked down the corridors slightly faster than he normally would, heading for sickbay without stopping to say hello to anyone. Not that there were any people to say hello to in the first place- most had retreated to their stations to clean up after the disturbances almost tore the ship apart. Trip himself would be down in engineering if things were normal.</p><p>Things were most certainly <em>not </em>normal.</p><p>As Trip entered sickbay, the zillion jokes he’d previously boasted about all but vanished from his head. He hadn’t even <em>heard </em>Malcolm speak yet, but the man’s body language said it all. His shoulders were tense, and his fists clenched. His sharp grey gaze shot around rapidly, only softening slightly when he locked eyes with the engineer.</p><p>“Trip!” Malcolm called, a heavy roll on the r. He began to struggle his way off the biobed, only to be pushed back by Phlox.</p><p>“I have not yet finished my scans, Lieutenant. Please sit still or I’ll have to restrain you.”</p><p>Malcolm reluctantly obeyed.</p><p>“Good t’ see ya, Malcolm,” said Trip. He forced a smile as he stepped closer to the biobed. “Hey, isn’t Hoshi s’pposed to be here?”</p><p>“Gone,” Malcolm replied. He pointed to the ceiling. “On bridge.”</p><p>“Ah.”</p><p>Trip couldn’t stand awkward silences. In his family, there were no such thing. He had two siblings and a dozen aunts and uncles; silence was a privilege back home. He wasn’t used to it.</p><p>“Missin’ yer British accent?” Trip asked awkwardly. Malcolm nodded.</p><p>"Not used to zis," he said.</p><p>Trip forced a smile again. “’Cause I’m not.”</p><p>The dejected look on Malcolm’s face caused Trip’s stomach to do a double backflip. “Aw, hell, I didn’t mean it like that!” <em>Okay, jokes aren’t gunna cut it here. That backfired.</em></p><p>“Okay,” said Malcolm. He reached forward and patted Trip’s arm. “It okay.”</p><p>“Hoshi was a great help earlier,” Phlox piped up. Trip restrained a grimace. <em>You couldn’t’ve said somethin’ before I opened my big mouth?</em></p><p>“Lieutenant Reed is picking up- er, rather, <em>re-</em>picking up English very fast. I suppose your knowledge isn’t all gone.”</p><p>“Feels like,” the lieutenant said grimly. He glanced back up at Trip, a smile dancing on his lips. “Keptin got news?”</p><p>“Uh, no,” Trip replied after a moment’s hesitation. Getting used to Russian Malcolm was not going to be easy. “T’Pol’s lookin’ at the scans to see if those wave disturbances had anythin’ to do with this.”</p><p>Malcolm seemed to consider this for a minute. “Plausible,” he finally said. Then a look of worry overcame his features and he began speaking in rapid Russian.</p><p>“Whoa, slow down!” Trip tried to grab Malcolm’s arm, but it did nothing to calm him down. In fact, it only seemed to make matters worse.</p><p>“Судно!” Malcolm exclaimed; the only word Trip could make out among the jumble. “Нет. Enterprise!”</p><p>A hypospray hissed and Malcolm’s eyes rolled back, his weight going limp in Trip’s arms. Phlox stood beside the biobed with his lips pursed. “I was afraid of this,” the doctor remarked. “He is beginning to show elevated levels of adrenaline, likely caused by distress. It’s better to keep him sedated while I conclude my scans.”</p><p>Gently, Trip lay Malcolm back down and swung the man’s legs back onto the bed. Then he stepped back and watched Malcolm breathe restlessly in his sleep. Trip never thought that Malcolm, of all people, would experience a panic attack of that sort. <em>Well, </em>the engineer thought, <em>he did wake up speaking a different language. I would sure as hell freak out if that happened to me.</em></p><p>“He’s fine, though, right doc?” Trip couldn’t hide the wobble in his voice. Fortunately, Phlox gave him a reassuringly large smile. “He’s fine. Like I said, he is in a very distressed state, but once the initial shock settles, I am quite positive he will return to normal. Er, as normal as one can be, I suppose.”</p><p>Trip nodded blankly. “Thanks, Phlox. I’ll be on the bridge with the Cap’n. You’ll call-”</p><p>“What must I do to convince you, Commander?” Phlox interrupted. “Yes, I will call if there’s any developments. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I still have scans to run.”</p><p>That was Phlox speak for <em>get out.</em></p><p> </p><p>Hoshi caught his mood before he even stepped onto the bridge. She was, after all, the master at languages, and body language was no exception.</p><p>“He’s starting to panic,” she said, somewhere in between normal volume and a whisper. “I can tell he doesn’t like having to rely on people. That’s why I gave him some space.”</p><p>“I think we’ve got enough space out here, Hosh.” Trip’s joke fell flat. “Phlox had to knock him out. He started gettin’ real frantic about something. He mentioned Enterprise.”</p><p>“Did he mention anything else?”</p><p>“Yeah, actually. What was the word? Erm… <em>sudno, </em>I think.”</p><p>“<em>Sudno,</em>” Hoshi muttered. “Oh, Судно! That’s the word for vessel, or ship. Could he be worried for the ship?”</p><p>“Seemed like it.” Trip shrugged. “He also said – and I know this much – the word <em>no. </em>Like he was telling the ship… I dunno, not to do something.”</p><p>“Trip!” Archer exclaimed before Hoshi had the chance to respond. Trip straightened up and forced a grin on his face.</p><p>“Hey, Cap’n. Any luck?”</p><p>“I may have discovered something,” said T’Pol. She folded her hands in her lap before she continued. “Those disturbances we encountered two hours ago appear to have some kind of electromagnetic barrier. Most of our scans were deflected because of this, however, I was able to conclude that these disturbances release impulses similar to that of a human brain. Specifically, the part that controls speech and language.”</p><p>“It’s alive?” Trip asked, mouth agape.</p><p>“No, it is not alive. However, it is possible that when we hit the disturbances, the similarities in these patterns got intertwined with Lieutenant Reed’s brain and disrupted the neural networks.”</p><p>“Then, why weren’t we all affected?” Travis asked.</p><p>“Malcolm was unconscious,” said Archer suddenly. “He took a blow to the head when the disturbance hit.”</p><p>T’pol did her usual raise of the singular eyebrow. “It is possible that decreased neural activity served to strengthen the effects.”</p><p>“Then we just have to go back in, don’t we?” Archer came around to the front of the science station. “Recreate the circumstances?”</p><p>“In theory yes. But, Captain, repairs are still in the works.”</p><p>“How far away are the disturbances?”</p><p>T’Pol checked her monitor. “They are rapidly moving away from us. It will take several hours to reach them at maximum warp- a day, even.”</p><p>“It’s all we got,” Archer grumbled. “Set a course, Travis.”</p><p>“Yes, sir.” The helmsman looked equal parts nervous and relieved, though at which part of the conversation Trip didn’t know.</p><p>“Dismissed?” the engineer asked. Archer nodded.</p><p>“Dismissed,” he confirmed.</p><p> </p><p>Trip poked absentmindedly at his dinner, unable to stomach more than a few bites. Phlox had been right about the initial shock wearing off. Before he’d gone to the mess hall, Trip had visited sickbay again. Malcolm was up and moving around, speaking with Hoshi in his thick Russian accent. Phlox was feeding his creatures nearby. Not wanting to intrude, Trip had left quickly.</p><p>He sighed and rubbed his forehead. The disturbances were still at least a day away and moving quick, and even then, there was no guarantee. T’Pol was adamant the risks were acceptable, but it was the very <em>presence </em>of risks that had Trip doubtful. What if they hurt Malcolm more? Gave him a Spanish accent, or something even thicker? What if he woke up without knowing who he was?</p><p>Trip was so lost in his own downward spiral that he didn’t notice the footsteps making their way towards him until they stopped at his table.</p><p>“Anyone sitting?” a thickly accented voice said. Trip’s gaze shot up. <em>Speak of the devil…</em></p><p>Malcolm was out of uniform and did not look very happy about it. His hair was mused and tangled; his muscles tense. “Anyone sitting?” he repeated, gesturing to the empty chair.</p><p>Trip drifted back to reality. “Oh, no. Please.”</p><p>Malcolm set his food down with a sigh but didn’t touch it. He took to watching Trip instead, so Trip watched Malcolm. After a few moments, the Lieutenant grinned. “Somezing wrong?”</p><p>“N-no,” Trip said quickly. “Sorry, I’m just-”</p><p>“Confused?” Malcolm finished for him. “So am I. Not everyday yoo wake oop speeking different accent.”</p><p>“No kidding,” Trip breathed. “It’s a bit difficult tryna communicate with us, huh?”</p><p>“Difficult,” Malcolm agreed with a nod. “I zink I speek English, but what comes out…” he trails off with a pointed look. Trip nodded, not knowing what else to do.</p><p>“Cap’n’s found the disturbances,” said Trip after a few minutes. Malcolm glanced up; eyebrows raised. “Oh?”</p><p>“Accordin’ ta T’Pol, there’s some impulses that disrupted yer brain. Th' part with the language functions and stuff.”</p><p>“Keptin told me,” Malcolm said. He took a bite of mashed potatoes. “He sed we go to find disturbance.”</p><p>“That’s right. We’re gunna try to recreate what happened to hopefully get yer normal accent back.”</p><p>All of a sudden, Malcolm froze mid action. Concern welled up in Trip’s stomach. “Hey, Malcolm?”</p><p>“Нет,” said the British-turned-Russian. “Do not. Ship damaged already.”</p><p>“Repairs will be done long before we get there, Malcolm.”</p><p>Malcolm’s grey gaze snapped up to meet Trip’s blue one. “Cannot risk,” he said, as clear as day. “Not for me. I not broken.”</p><p>“Broken, no. But you’re also damaged, Malcolm. You need fixing too.” Trip said that quietly so that no one in the mess hall could hear, knowing just how much Malcolm hated having his vulnerability exposed. “We’re gunna get you back. You <em>and </em>that annoying accent of yers.”</p><p>Malcolm’s face split into a lopsided grin, but a hint of worry still danced behind his eyes. “What are risks?”</p><p>“The risks?” Trip tried to think. T’Pol was still calculating them the last time he checked. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “Subcommander T’Pol was not opposed to the idea, though, which has to be a good sign.”</p><p>“She follow orders,” Malcolm pointed out.</p><p>“Not to a fault like you do,” Trip teased. “T’Pol’s still got a mind of her own, no matter how Vulcan it is. We’ve seen her challenge orders before. She didn’t do it this time, and y’know why? Because it’s safe.”</p><p>“Nothing safe,” Malcolm said glumly. Trip waggled a finger in his face.</p><p>“Ah-ah, no more of that talk, Lieutenant! That’s an order. Now finish yer food, or I’ll tell Phlox personally how little you ate.”</p><p>Malcolm flashed the engineer a look of playful betrayal before picking up his fork again.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Malcolm Reed, 7:20am Wednesday</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>He knew it was cliché, but Malcolm hoped it had all been a dream. He hoped it was all just some crazy bloody dream his crazy bloody mind had decided to give him to throw him off.</p><p>But, no. The nightmare was real. He was indeed stuck speaking Russian – or English with a Russian accent, if he was lucky. Phlox had no answers as to why he could still understand English and he could not think of any better way to treat this “illness” than by running the Enterprise through the wave disturbances again.</p><p>Malcolm hated his limited communication. With Phlox it was quite possibly the hardest, as the doctor was still trying to get the hang of English. Most of the time he’d just nod and go “mhm” as if he’d been listening. It drove Malcolm mad.</p><p>Then there was Hoshi. Hoshi, at least, could understand him. Hoshi could speak back to him in Russian, although her usage was clipped. She likely did not use it very often. But who was Malcolm to judge? She spoke over fifty languages. He spoke English and that was it.</p><p>Well, he <em>used </em>to speak English and that <em>used </em>to be it.  </p><p>Captain Archer made a point not to treat him any different, to which Malcolm was thankful for. Trip tried to follow in the Captain’s example but was clearly having a hard time. Malcolm did not miss the pitying looks the engineer gave him, and it took all his willpower not to snap at him. Trip meant well. Malcolm hadn’t even interacted with Travis yet. The young ensign was too busy flying the helm.</p><p>Malcolm was scrolling through a PADD Hoshi had given him when the intercom beeped. Phlox came skipping around the corner to answer it. “Sickbay, Dr. Phlox here.”</p><p>“<em>We’re nearing the disturbances,” </em>came Captain Archer’s voice. <em>“Bring Malcolm up when you can.”</em></p><p>“Rodger that, Captain.”</p><p>The call terminated and Phlox turned to face his patient. “Well, Lieutenant, seems we’re getting an early start to the day.”</p><p>“Can’t we do it in here?” Malcolm asked. Phlox looked at him quizzically, so Malcolm tried again, concentrating on rounding his vowels.</p><p>“Can’t we… do it… in here?”</p><p>“Come on, then, Mr. Reed. We don’t want to be caught in the corridors when those disturbances hit, hm?”</p><p>Phlox hadn’t understood. Malcolm sighed in defeat and slipped off the biobed.</p><p>When one is stationed on a starship with a total crew manifest of 83 people, rumours are bound to spread. Malcolm had prepared himself for this. He’d prepared for strange looks thrown his way and not-so-subtle whispering.</p><p>
  <em>“I heard his accent slipped.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I heard he can only speak Russian.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I heard he doesn’t understand English anymore.”</em>
</p><p>What Malcolm did <em>not </em>expect was to be largely ignored. What Malcolm did not expect was for the ones who did notice them to smile as if nothing were different.</p><p>Phlox must have seen the look of utter confusion on Malcolm’s face because he explained, “the Captain kept this under the wraps rather well. As far as the rest of the crew is concerned, you have a concussion.”</p><p>A concussion. Malcolm nodded to himself. He could live with that.</p><p>Hopefully for not much longer.</p><p>The bridge was noticeably empty of any crew that weren’t part of the senior staff, save for Ensign Meng at tactical. She gave her boss a small smile as he entered.</p><p>“Disturbance one is approaching at warp seven,” T’Pol announced. “I am reading a larger than normal energy surge on this one. It might be best to-”</p><p>She was cut off as the ship gave a sudden lurch. Malcolm was sent flying, crashing into Trip as he did so. Archer yelled over the commotion, but his voice was drowned out.</p><p>When things quietened down, T’Pol explained calmly, “it appears the scanners did not pick up on an extra disturbance wave. This one is disappearing now. We have two minutes until the next one hits.”</p><p>“Are we recreating the circumstances exactly?” Archer asked.</p><p>“It would be the best idea, Captain.”</p><p>“Got it. Malcolm, get over to tactical.”</p><p>Malcolm untangled himself from Trip and got to his feet. “Aye, sir.”</p><p>“Phlox, stand by with a sedative. I don’t feel like knocking him out the same way again.”</p><p>“Captain-”</p><p>“That’s not open for debate, Subcommander,” Archer snapped a bit harsher than necessary. “Trip, you’re going to want to hang onto something. Travis, I’m relying on you to keep us steady.”</p><p>“Twenty seconds,” said T’Pol. Malcolm gripped his station tighter. With Phlox on one side of him and Trip on the other, he felt like he was suffocating.</p><p>Fortunately, he didn’t have much time to consider this further before the first disturbance hit. Somehow, it felt even stronger than the last. Perhaps eating breakfast wasn’t such a good idea after all, Malcolm thought.</p><p>When they got to the seventh disturbance, Archer yelled for Phlox.</p><p>“I suggest you sit down, Lieutenant,” the doctor said. Making the precious seconds in between disturbances count, Malcolm began to lower himself to the floor.</p><p>That’s when the eighth disturbance crashed into the ship much earlier than anticipated. Phlox fell forward; Trip fell backwards. Malcolm fell onto his arse. There was the hiss of a hypospray and Malcolm readied himself to pass out, hoping to <em>god </em>he didn’t hit his head again.</p><p>But there was nothing.</p><p>Tentatively, Malcolm opened his eyes, and he almost gasped in horror at what he saw.</p><p>Trip lay sprawled along the ground, apparently uninjured, thank god. Phlox towered above him, the used hypospray still in his hand; a look of shock on his face.</p><p>“Goddamnit, Phlox!” Archer growled.</p><p>Malcolm waited for the next wave to dissipate before he made a move for Commander Tucker’s unconscious body. Archer yelled at him to stay put; Phlox told him not to move; Travis was announcing something.</p><p>Fate is a cruel mistress.</p><p>Malcolm had just reached Trip’s side when the final wave hit the Enterprise and he was sent flying straight into the helm. As his body collided with the cool metal, pain flared up from every nerve, and stars danced across his vision.</p><p><em>Goddamnit, </em>he thought. <em>Not again.</em></p><p>The ship still rocked. Why was it still rocking? He’d counted the disturbances and was sure they’d hit the twelfth one. Was he off? He could be off. Or perhaps there was just another sneaky one. God, his mind just wasn’t working today. He wanted to sleep. Could he sleep?</p><p>Captain Archer’s face came into view. “Lieutenant,” he shouted, but his voice was muffled. Far away. Getting farther.</p><p>“Sorry, Cap’n,” Malcolm heard himself mutter before the darkness stole him away.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>No, it's not a deathfic! Or angst! It's labeled "humour" for a reason! My angsty ass just couldn't find another way to end it.</p><p>There's gonna be another fic tied to this one coming soon, so stay tuned. (It's hinted in the last line. Hehehe.)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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